Black as the pupil of an eye, sucking at light
like the pupil of an eye, I love you, far-sighted night.
Give me the voice to sing of you, godmother of every hymn,
you in whose hand lie the bridles of the four winds.
Calling on you, extolling you, I am no more than
a shell where the sea-swell goes on roaring.
Night! I have looked long enough into human eyes.
Now, emblaze me, make ash of me, black-sun-night!
Черная, как зрачок, как зрачок, сосущая
Свет — люблю тебя, зоркая ночь.
Голосу дай мне воспеть тебя, о праматерь
Песен, в чьей длани узда четырех ветров.
Клича тебя, славословя тебя, я только
Раковина, где еще не умолк океан.
Ночь! Я уже нагляделась в зрачки человека!
Испепели меня, черное солнце — ночь!
«Snow is falling, falling down. / The geraniums are trying / To befriend the sparkles flying / Past the window’s woven bound. Snow is falling, all’s in action, / Smitten, taking off the ground: / The black stairs, the intersection, — / All is being lost and found. Snow is falling...»
«Snowing on, snowing on. / On a windowsill, the flower / Of geranium's reaching out for / Starlets of the snow beyond. Snowing on and all’s in chaos, / All's engaged into a twirl: / Wooden footsteps of back stairs / And a snowbound crossroad turn. Snowing on, snowing on. / Like inst...»
«Beneath the willow wound round with ivy / we take cover from the worst / of the storm, with a greatcoat round / our shoulders and my hands around your waist. I’ve got it wrong. That isn’t ivy / entwined in the bushes round / the wood, but hops. You intoxicate me! / Let’s spread th...»
«Dear, I ventured out of the house late this evening, merely / for a breath of fresh air from the ocean not far away. / The sun was smoldering low like a Chinese fan in a gallery / and a cloud reared up its huge lid like a Steinway. A quarter century back you craved curry and dates from Sen...»